


Beyond the Waves

by MakaylaJade



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Child Neglect, Developing Relationship, Episode: s04e06 The Instincts, Episode: s04e07 Memoriam, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Repressed Memories, Sexual Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-27 01:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30114711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakaylaJade/pseuds/MakaylaJade
Summary: Despite all that Reid understood, he would never be able to comprehend it: how he, too, had been a victim all along.
Relationships: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid
Comments: 21
Kudos: 69





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone, I'm so happy to be writing again! Welcome to my next long term fic, Beyond the Waves. I sincerely hope you enjoy what I have to offer, and as always, please heed the warnings. I will be adding the ones I forget along the way.
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta readers Drey and Ri, I'm so grateful for their patience and support as we go on this journey together. Follow them on Tumblr! - @suburban--gothic and @wheelsup.
> 
> I'm so grateful to share my chaotic ideals with all of you, and I always appreciate kudos and comments :)

“The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul.”

-Carl Jung

* * *

It was always the whispers that would wake him up. Dark eyes would snap open wide, the sheets would cling to his sweat soaked skin, his chest would heave for air, and a sob would claw its way up his trembling throat. It was psychological suffocation, the overwhelming fear of a nightmare he could not remember latching itself onto his brain. A parasite, sucking away any sense of comfort and safety that he had felt as he drifted to sleep. He had experienced nightmares before, but recently, it seemed like every night, he was roused awake, afraid of something that he couldn’t even identify in a dark room.

The darkness was a special place. It was unlike any other place, a dimension of its own that survived outside of the understood field of existence. The dark meant an absence of light, an absence of existence, and to Spencer, the sheer absence was what made it feel so eerie. He knew far too well what being submerged in that blackness was like. He could remember nights when he curled up in his bed, trembling in irrational yet gut wrenching fear while his mother wailed down the hall, talking to the walls about things that not even Spencer’s marvelous brain could comprehend. 

As much as he loved his mother, his desire to forget about all of his childhood memories was immense, which was probably why he didn’t have much recollection of his younger years at all. The memories that lingered, however, would forever be ingrained in his mind. He could remember how his mother’s mental state and his father’s overall will to stay both declined at steady paces until one day it was just him and his shell of a mother, her body slowly following in the footsteps of her deteriorating mind. He didn’t exactly know what it was that made his father leave, but from age ten to eighteen, he had never been more miserable in all his life. He was filled with such an excruciating sense of empty betrayal, because as angry as he was at his father for leaving them, deep within he felt an underlying sense of relief that he couldn’t quite understand. 

He had been taking care of his mother for as long as he could remember, and one could argue that he had raised himself more than either of his parents had. Frequent walks to the grocery store a few miles from home with his mother’s EBT card clutched in his little hands were all too familiar, and it didn’t seem like it had been that long ago. When he would get home with several paper bags clutched in his arms, his mother would think he was a mail man and thank him for delivering her packages. Looking back on it now, it had been nearly twenty years since he took his first walk to the store without his mother or father by his side. 

He was dreaming again. 

The house was dark, glaringly dark, and its eeriness reminded Reid why he was so afraid of the dark to begin with. The absence of light was enough to chill his bones, and he nearly halted upon his entrance but he pushed through because he had to get to the basement. He couldn’t comprehend why, but the urge to get down there was overwhelming, and he felt the need pulsing in his head. He should have recognized it as a dream almost immediately, especially given the way that he, Hotch, and Prentiss cleared the house was completely unorganized with little to no care for standard procedures.

Clearing the top floor of the house pushed Reid deeper into that black abyss, and soon he was wandering down a long, seemingly endless hallway. Gun loaded and clutched tightly in his slender hand, he proceeded even though the walls felt like they were closing in around him. At the end of the hallway stood a single door and it screamed out and begged for him to come closer, the same whispers that he had woken up from many nights before flooding his ears. Yet like a moth to a flame he couldn’t resist going closer. He reached out, his hand blurring in his periphery as he slowly turned the golden doorknob, and what greeted him on the other side was a set of descending steps. 

“There’s a basement,” Reid whispered to the other two agents as they approached him from behind. Slowly, he descended into the depths below.

Once his feet hit the subterranean level, he didn’t see anything glaringly out of place, not until Prentiss muttered, “Damn,” under her breath. He turned and followed her line of sight, seeing a pair of black Converse cladded feet peeking out behind a dryer and scuffed up blue jeans stopping just short of white-socked ankles. Reid stood frozen, Hotch coming to stand alongside him while Prentiss crouched down by the boy’s feet.

“Damn it…” she breathed out, looking back at the two men with a telling expression on her face - they were too late. 

“You sure it’s him?” Reid asked, voice quiet and hesitant. Something within said he knew who the boy was, but truthfully he wasn’t sure who he was expecting it to be.

“Who else would it be?” Hotch responded beside him.

“I just want to make sure,” Reid said as Emily turned to look at them, a grim expression on her face.

“Male, approximately six years old, I’m sorry,” she said while shaking her head. The sound of a slight clatter gained their attention and they all caught sight of a lone baby crawling across the cold concrete. Reid, eyes wide in surprise and horror, was frozen in his spot, even as the baby continued to crawl closer.

“What’s that baby doing here?” He started, “JJ can’t let her baby be at a crime scene…”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard a faint call of, “Reid.”

“JJ…” he breathed, his eyes fluttering open as another call of his name forced him out of his dream. He shot up and leaned forward, dragging a hand over his face and exhaling shakily, “Sorry, I was dreaming,” he murmured, hearing a giggle from Prentiss.

“No kidding,” she said, a smile tickling her lips.

“We found a six-year-old boy, who had been abused and stabbed. Your baby was at the crime scene, I was trying to get him out of there,” Reid turned to address JJ and instantly felt embarrassed at the amused and somewhat perturbed expression on her face. “Sorry,” he muttered, looking down.

“It’s okay,” JJ said. It almost sounded like a question since she probably wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for and looking back on it, he realized he wasn’t making much sense.

“You know, Reid,” Derek said, “Simple dream analysis says if there’s a baby in your dreams that baby’s actually you.”

“I don’t believe in dream analysis,” Reid said dismissively.

“I don’t know, it makes sense,” Hotch said with a slight roll of his shoulders, “The case we’re working on and the case in your dream both involve children. Maybe your subconscious is telling you that you want to sit this one out,” he suggested, not unkindly.

“I don’t…” Reid quickly refused with a frown. He was beginning to worry about his own mental state, but he couldn’t let that transfer to the rest of his team. Their concern was the last thing he needed. 

“Well, maybe you’re just stressed out about going home to Las Vegas. Did you tell your mom you’re coming?” Emily asked. Reid felt a bit off-put about the comment regarding his mom, a shiver running up his spine, yet he couldn’t quite pinpoint what had brought it about. He didn’t talk about his mom that often to the team. It was personal, and he kept it a secret for the longest time. He wasn’t ashamed of his mother by any means but talking about her brought up bad memories; another reason why he could hardly stand to see her in person anymore.

His daily letters, as he had told Garcia in the past, helped to alleviate the guilt he felt for not seeing her as often as he probably should have. She was his mother, he loved her dearly, but to visit her meant visiting his past, and that was never a happy interaction. She was mostly ignorant to the way his childhood turned out, and she chose to bring up the good times whenever they talked, likely because her brain had either blissfully forgotten or chose to ignore the bad memories. Her favorite story, one that she repeated often, was when Spencer had pretended to be a tightrope walker. He would smile and nod, even though the time she had been yelling at the people listening in through their tv was much more memorable. 

“I don’t know. Maybe because someone fell asleep on the jet,” Emily said with a smile, and Reid couldn’t help but smile as he hummed and nodded his head since he had no choice but to accept the jab. Hotch was quick to bring the group’s attention back to the pressing matter at hand - no surprise there.

“All right, let's start from the beginning, one more time,” he said. JJ flashed a photo of a young boy with light brown hair and dark eyes and a smile on his round face, “This is Ethan Hayes, he was 5. Two weeks ago he was abducted out of his own front yard.”

"Where were the parents?” Reid asked, glancing up from his file. He had asked himself that question far too many times in his own life. Watching his mother’s gradual mental decline and his father abandoning him left within him an irreparable scar. Maybe the basement represented just that, a symbol of his dark childhood, his dark foundation. 

“His mom just ran inside to grab her purse. When she came back, he was gone. She wasn't away for more than a minute or two,” JJ answered, taking a breath before continuing, “Police found his body exactly one week later in the desert. He was in a new change of clothes, his nails clipped, his hair was combed,” she listed off.

“That's a lot of remorse,” Rossi said with a frown.

Hotch continued on listing the known facts regarding the manner of his death , “No sign of sexual assault. Medical report suggests he was smothered,” he said as he theorized with the rest of the team, “Unsub could see this death as merciful.”

"Who's the new boy?” Prentiss asked, taking a second photo from JJ.

“Michael Bridges. Yesterday he set out to walk by himself to a friend's house a block away. He never showed up,” the blonde informed, the picture of Michael circulating around the jet.

“Are we sure these cases are even connected?” Reid asked with a furrowed eyebrows, his chin perched atop his slender knuckles. 

“The unsub called each of the families,” JJ informed them, leaving them all with no doubt that the cases were connected. 

“But no ransom demand,” Rossi noted.

“It was more like taunts,” JJ responded, “He's telling them it's their fault that their child was taken.”

“Okay, so we have an unsub who shows remorse and then projects his own guilt onto the victims' parents,” Morgan said with a grim expression, one that looked far too similar to the one on his face when he regarded Reid.

“And if we're lucky, six more days to find the boy before he's killed,” Hotch said solemnly. After a bit more discussion between them, Reid stood up to get another mug of coffee, dragging a hand through his hair and sighing as he leaned against the mini coffee bar. He felt a migraine coming up, right behind his eyes, but he proceeded to fix his coffee to his liking.

“Hey, pretty boy, you alright?” Derek asked, startling Spencer into dropping the sugar packet, an audible gasp forcing its way from his lips. Grains of sugar scattered across the counter as he turned to look at Derek, eyes blown wide and lips parted in silent shock. “Jesus, Morgan, you could have killed me,” he said, almost breathless. Morgan raised an eyebrow, glancing down at the spilled sugar before looking back to Reid’s face.

“You seem a little high-strung…” he pointed out, all amusement gone from his face now. Reid cringed internally, feeling guilty for making his friend worry. He wasn’t even sure what was going on with himself right now. Everything felt surreal - like this moment alone was a dream that he was traveling through.

“I’m fine,” he said, shaking his head and wiping the sugar off of the counter and into his palm before disposing of it in the nearby waste bin, filled with coffee-making paraphernalia. 

“Reid…” Morgan said, his voice almost a warning as he tilted his head and leaned his hip against the counter, effectively trapping the genius in. Reid just sighed in frustration, because he knew Morgan and Morgan wasn’t going to let him get away from this without a bit of talking. He just brushed his hair back, unable to help the little twitch of his lips, one of his worst nervous habits. He had the urge to rock back and forth to calm himself down a bit since he hated confrontation, but this was Morgan and he was not a threat.

“I just… I’ve been having trouble sleeping,” he said, but he frowned and looked down into his coffee, “I guess the correct description would be _staying_ asleep.”

“Let me guess,” Morgan said, an expression of faux pondering on his face, “Nightmares?”

“Yeah… Yeah,” Reid muttered, tracing a finger over a line on the mug. “I’ve been having them for a long time… You know that.” 

“I know,” Morgan asked, beginning to fix himself a cup of coffee so that he had an actual reason to stay standing there, “We’ve talked about them before… We all have nightmares, Reid,” he reminded him.

“No, I know that,” Spencer said with a frown, his fingers dancing along the rim of the mug now, eager to move and twitch, his autistic traits nearly impossible to hide. “But there’s been this one-this one dream that’s been recurring since I was little… I can never remember what it’s actually about but I just get that same feeling when it wakes me up and… I don’t know,” he hummed, pursing his lips. He didn’t want Morgan to doubt his abilities to work the case, and Reid knew that he was capable of doing his job. This was just… a hump, he assumed, regarding his childhood. There were memories that he didn’t want brought to the surface regarding his mother and his father’s abandonment. His childhood was a frail existence, shrouded in a dark veil of neglect and sadness. A world built upon his father’s departure and his mother’s unintentional abuse and neglect. He loved his mother more than anything, but it was a painful time in his life and it was a difficult time to look back on and think of the good memories before the bad ones.

His only escape had been books, learning, education… He devoted himself entirely to school, more than most kids, because that was the only outlet he had. Athletics had never been his forte. His father had tried, but his undiagnosed autism prevented his parents from understanding that he simply wasn’t cut out for sports. Diana preferred him to become an academic just like she was, but his father wished for him to be normal, like the other kids. He could remember his mother telling him many times in the past that he would never be like the other kids because he was extraordinary. He didn’t care about what his father thought. He only hoped he made his mother proud.

“Maybe going back home is triggering it somehow,” Morgan proposed, and he sighed when Reid let his shoulders rise and then drop in a displeased shrug. Reid didn’t respond, unsure of what to say, and he could feel himself getting more and more nervous, the weight of Derek’s gaze lingering on him. 

“Kid,” Derek said, resting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing slightly, ever the touchy person. Spencer didn’t even flinch away like he normally would. Instead he met Derek’s gaze directly, the other man acknowledging him with true care and concern in his eyes. “If you ever wanna talk, you know I’ll listen, right?” he asked lowly, and Spencer couldn’t help the shiver that tiptoed up his spine.

“I know,” he said with a nod, his lips pulling into a line as he looked down into his coffee once again and he briefly thought about how the color resembled Derek’s eyes. Derek smiled and ruffled his hair before walking off and going back to his seat, and Spencer was left with more questions than answers. Soon, he found himself wandering back to his own seat, mentally preparing himself for the investigation that awaited them.

* * *

so many people have told me  
that i need to open up

but not a single person  
understands that every time

i pry apart my ribcage,  
releasing all of the butterflies

that have been hiding there  
for years,

people are too busy swatting  
them away

to realize what i have done  
for them

-k.p.k


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright everyone, the second chapter is finally here! I'm thinking about making my update schedule every Wednesday, but life can be a bit hectic sometimes, so I'm not sure if I'll stick to it. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

“Trust in dreams, for in them is the hidden gate to eternity.”

-Khalil Gibran

* * *

When they touched down in Las Vegas, the group split up; JJ and Hotch went to meet Michael Bridges’ parents, Craig and Amy, and Prentiss and Rossi headed out to the desert landscape to investigate the last crime scene. That left Reid and Morgan to pay a visit to the M.E., who was awaiting them with his autopsy report on the first victim, young Ethan Hayes. 

That poor boy… Usually Spencer was pretty good at withholding his emotions while on the job, even when it came to cases involving children, but something about Ethan struck within him a sense of familiarity that made him feel uneasy. He had never known the child before and probably wouldn’t have before now, but he didn’t have to know him to feel sympathy for his untimely death. He was so young yet his entire life had been snuffed out from under him. He wasn’t entirely sure where that thought came from, but Spencer was briefly faced with the idea of something like that happening to him when he was a child. He had never really thought about himself in a situation like that before, at least not like this, and perhaps he was just sleep deprived to the point where he was beginning to falter, just slightly, in his ability to keep a level head. 

He always did his best to stay calm and collected, but this case was brewing a storm in his brain, the heavy rainfall pounding in his ears mercilessly. He had the growing urge to just curl up in a ball and rock back and forth, and everything seemed like it was too much. But sitting in an SUV with Morgan’s imposing figure made that impossible. They had a job to do, and no matter how questionable his mental state was, he couldn’t just back out. A boy’s life was at stake here, and by letting himself get distracted, he was putting more unnecessary risk on his life. 

“Hey, um… Morgan?” Reid asked quietly. The darker man hummed in acknowledgement, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. 

“What is it, Reid?” he asked, and Spencer gnawed on the inside of his cheek, looking down at his crossed legs, one skinny thigh placed meticulously over the other. Suddenly he felt very small next to Derek. He realized he was probably taking too long to respond, especially since Morgan looked over at him, one eyebrow raised, when all he heard was silence.

“Pretty boy?” he said his pet name quietly. Spencer licked his lips at the sound of it, picking at the hem of his pants. There was always something about Morgan that made him feel different. Derek Morgan was an attractive, successful man with women throwing themselves at him left and right, in every city, on every day of the week. Spencer was well aware of Derek’s attractiveness, but oftentimes the line between acknowledging it and being  _ attracted to _ him blurred and it was hard to differentiate. 

Simply put, Spencer was hopelessly infatuated with Derek.

But pursuing something like that was foolish for two reasons; For starters, Derek was as straight as an arrow, although if he did swing that way, Reid doubted that  _ he _ would be the type of man that Derek would find appealing. He dimmed in comparison to Derek; he didn’t find himself very attractive, and even if Derek did find him ‘pretty’ as his favorite nickname suggested, they were far too different. They had different interests, different lifestyles, and it simply would never work out between them. Derek was exciting, Spencer was boring.

To add to the pile of reasons why they couldn’t possibly work, they were coworkers. Having a relationship that crossed the friendship boundaries was almost impossible and certainly risky. Relationships between coworkers who worked in the same unit was strongly discouraged, and although the fraternization policies weren’t often upheld, if it had a negative impact on job performance, section chiefs wouldn’t hesitate to split up couples or go so far as to fire one or both partners. Spencer didn’t think it was worth risking. Besides, he had grown comfortable with his inadvertent solitude, so it didn’t seem right to break the pattern now.

“I, um… I’m feeling really unsure about this case,” he admitted, opening up to Morgan in a rather uncharacteristic way, and that didn’t go unnoticed by him either. There was another moment of uncomfortable silence between them, both contemplating the meaning of that statement before Morgan dared to respond. 

“Maybe you should follow Hotch’s advice,” he said slowly, delicately, like Spencer would shatter with a single misplaced word.

“What advice?” Reid asked, his nose twitching in slight frustration at his realization, “You… You think I should sit this one out?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” Derek said quickly, “But if  _ you’re _ doubting yourself, do you think it’s a good idea to put yourself in a position where you could make a mistake? Possibly even a deadly one?” he tried to reason, but Spencer was already shaking his head, humming his disagreement immediately.

“No… No, I know I can do my job, Morgan,” he said, “It’s just this feeling that won’t go away, that something bad is going to happen… I can’t explain it.”

“Try,” Morgan encouraged.

“I don’t know. It’s just… you know that feeling of dread you get in the pit of your stomach when you realize an unsub isn’t going to back down?” Reid said, hoping that analogy would give Derek at least some semblance of how he was feeling about the case. 

“I know exactly how that feels,” Derek said.

“It’s kind of like that; Realizing something is going to go wrong and knowing there’s nothing you can do about it,” Spencer murmured, his hands fidgeting in his lap now, playing with the strap of his messenger bag - that was another reason why he liked to carry it with him everywhere. It was a big, portable stimming toy that no one would think much about.

“Try not to think like that. It doesn’t do us any good to go into a case with a negative mindset,” Morgan said, glancing over at Reid with a softness in his dark eyes, “You aren’t alone in this. We’ll get ‘em, Reid.”

That was somewhat comforting to Spencer, even though he already knew it. To be reminded that he had someone on his side was relieving. Derek often didn’t realize the impact he had on the young doctor, and sometimes even Spencer felt a bit embarrassed by that fact. Morgan was a pretty monumental figure in his life; he idolized him greatly. Morgan was his muse, and whether or not he realized that, Spencer doubted that would ever change.

When they arrived at the M.E., they gave quick introductions before getting right to business. The medical examiner pulled the mortuary gurney out from its cooler, the small body on top looking even smaller, hidden underneath a thin white sheet. “There was no bruising around his neck or face. I'm guessing he used a pillow.” 

Morgan, with a solemn expression on his face, lifted up the sheet with gloved hands, and in fact, the body underneath was nearly spotless, no noticeable signs of trauma of any kind.

“Was there any sign of a struggle?” Reid asked, his brows furrowed. It was hard to take his eyes off of the poor boy’s face, nearly as white as the sheet that had once been concealing it.

“No, but he would have been extremely weak,” The medical examiner said.

“Why’s that?” Morgan asked, replacing the sheet back over the boy’s head.  _ Good _ , Reid thought briefly,  _ even in death, this child doesn’t deserve to hear the evilness of the world.  _

“This is where it gets weird,” the man said, looking back and forth between the two agents. “He was noticeably thin, and both his stomach and intestines were completely empty.”

“He was being starved?” Reid asked, perplexed.

“It seems that way,” the M.E. said, although it was clear by his tone that there was a bit more to it.

“Okay, so what's the weird part?” Morgan questioned.

“I wanted to determine if malnutrition played a part in his death, so I looked for evidence of starvation ketosis by analyzing the vitreous humor: the squishy part of the eyeball,” he explained, “And I couldn't find any ketone bodies there.”

“Meaning?” Morgan prompted.

“He was getting nutrients somehow,” Reid answered thoughtfully.

“Through an IV?” Morgan asked.

“There were no marks to indicate that,” the medical examiner responded with a shake of his head.

“Any idea what else could it be?” Reid asked, genuinely confused.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” the man said.

After their time at the M.E.’s office, Morgan called Hotch. He told them that they would regroup at the Bridges’ house, and that both he and Morgan would stay with them throughout the night in case they received a phone call from the unsub. But when they arrived at the Bridges’ residence, they were immediately gestured to be quiet upon entering, and they realized immediately why; the unsub had already contacted them, just like he had the previous victim’s family. He and Morgan stood quietly near the entrance to avoid bringing attention to themselves and disturbing the call. They shared a look, both unsettled. 

“ _ He doesn’t want to talk to you _ ,” the unsub said through a robotically altered voice, “ _ He knows what a bad mother you are. _ ”

But the next statement really caught Reid by surprise, and although he didn’t exactly get the time to ponder it immediately, he stored it in the back of his brain for future reference. 

“ _ Your three minutes are up _ .”

After JJ introduced the two of them, Michael’s parents both excused themselves from the room. Reid couldn’t even begin to imagine how they were feeling, especially not after talking to the unsub himself. Of course he could list off emotions they were feeling; confusion, stress, paranoia… The rational, educated part of his brain could say those things without batting an eye, but he knew that behind each of those words hid a plethora of sensations; the sensation of crumbling stability, like everything was going wrong because their son was gone and there was absolutely nothing they could do about it except stay home and  _ wait _ . 

Briefly, he and Morgan recounted the information they gathered at the medical examiner, and although the starvation theory was possible, it directly conflicted with the care their unsub had for the body. They were so close, Reid could feel it, but they still had some missing pieces to uncover. 

When they were left alone for the night, Reid and Morgan hunkered down in the Bridges’ living room, bouncing off several other theories between them before coming up empty and deciding that they should get at least a couple hours of sleep. Spencer couldn’t agree more. He didn’t exactly remember when he had fallen asleep, but it wasn’t long after, his lanky form slumped down into the couch cushions, his neck angled at an awkward angle. 

And the dream came again, but this time, something was different.

He realized almost immediately that he was lucid dreaming, and slowly, he rolled his head to the side, eyes fluttering open. He sat himself and stood from the sofa, an indescribable force pulling him towards the hallway, where he opened a door and was faced with a familiar set of steps. Alone this time, he slowly descended them, a hand raised to his holster where he slipped his revolver out, scanning the basement until his eyes landed on a pair of familiar Converses, peeking out from behind the dryer. 

He wasn’t alone like he originally thought, footsteps following him down the stairs. He didn't even have to look back to know who the pair was. Something ingrained in him knew exactly who that boy behind the dryer was, but try as he might, he couldn’t even begin to identify him.

“Couldn’t find any evidence of forced entry,” Rossi said from behind him. Reid’s gaze never shifted away from the boy.

“Why would that matter?” he asked, his voice borderline distressed.

“‘Cause it means he most likely knew his attacker,” Morgan said, as if he were stating obvious knowledge. But Reid wasn’t concerned with that anymore. Looking down at his chest, he felt a burning sensation ripple under his shirt, his hands coming up to grasp at the material. He heard Rossi say his name slowly, but his fingers were already digging into the fabric, clawing apart the buttons. Leeches were latched onto his chest, sucking the blood straight from his pale skin. He called for Morgan to get them off, panic growing in his rising voice, but hands roughly grabbed his forearms, and he looked up from where he had been screaming into the cushions.

“Reid, Reid, wake up,” Morgan said urgently to him, holding him still and forcing him to look at him, those dark brown eyes becoming his greatest solace. “It’s Morgan.”

Horrified at what just happened, Reid didn’t even register Craig Bridges’ voice as he and his wife came downstairs, stopping at the first platform and looking on at the two agents in panicked confusion. Even Spencer didn’t know exactly what was going on, his heart rate increased and his breathing rapid, his hands trembling as he pressed them against his temples.

“What the hell’s going on?” Craig asked frantically. Morgan looked to Reid briefly before turning to calm the woken couple.

“Sir, ma’am, everything’s okay,” Morgan said as he approached the bottom of the stairs with his hand raised to halt the man in his tracks. Spencer stared down at his lap, still feeling a phantom burning sensation in his chest as the vivid images of leeches sucking the blood straight from his skin played over and over in his mind. Leeches...

“You wake us up screaming, you think everything’s okay?” Craig questioned incredulously. 

“Look, I understand we startled you, and I'm sorry for that,” Derek tried to apologize.

“You’re the FBI,” Craig reminded them harshly. 

“You’re right… You’re right, I’m really-I’m really sorry,” Reid said, breathless as he dragged his hands through his hair, pushing it back away from his face. The Bridges looked at him with disbelief clear on their faces, but Morgan quickly jumped in to reassure them that everything was fine. 

“Sir, please, go back upstairs and try to get some rest. It was just a misunderstanding. Everything is fine, I promise you that.” he said to Craig, who wordlessly retreated back up the stairs. But Amy stood still, looking at Reid who had stood up from the couch now, her arms crossed over chest while concern showed in her narrowed eyes.

“Are  _ you _ okay?” Amy asked, and Reid couldn’t even look up at her, ashamed of what had just happened.

“It was a dream, I’m really sorry,” he apologized quietly, but Amy clearly wanted more from him.

“Was it about Michael?” she asked, hope lingering in the soft tones of her voice. Reid felt terrible, knowing he was going to destroy that hope.

“No,” he answered then, his voice a whisper.

“I've been afraid to close my eyes,” Amy said to him, her sadness tangible, “I'm scared I'll see him die.”

The eye contact between the two lasted for only a couple of seconds, but to Reid, it felt like a lifetime. He could see the suppressed terror in her eyes, and something about it seemed so familiar, like he had seen it in someone else before. It was nostalgic in a strange way that he couldn’t quite explain, and that indescribable feeling of dread that hollowed out his insides increased nearly tenfold. He didn’t even think of how to respond, maintaining shy eye contact with her even as Morgan spoke once again, “Ma'am, I know it's hard. But I need you to go upstairs and try to get some sleep… Please. I am sorry for the disturbance.” 

Amy cast Reid one last lingering gaze before turning and heading upstairs. Spencer heard Morgan let out a quiet sigh once they were alone, and he too exhaled a heavy breath while sitting himself back down on the sofa. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. It felt like he was steadily spiraling downward towards just completely losing it. He felt so out of control, like he had no power over the situation, and to Reid, that was devastating.

“I’m making everything worse,” he muttered, glancing up as Morgan came to sit near him, a near-pained pinch in his brows.

“Reid...” Morgan said, sounding concerned but wanting to try and keep Reid calm. “These cases get to all of us.”

“I'm losing it in their living room. And I'm dreaming-I'm dreaming about dead kids… and being covered in  _ leeches _ ,” Reid said, sounding troubled himself. Leeches in dreams represented a bad presence in one’s life, something negative that was, quite literally, sucking the life out of someone. They screamed danger, but Spencer didn’t know what exactly he should be afraid of except himself. 

“What the hell is scaring you?” Morgan asked.

“This boy's gonna die and there's nothing I can do to stop it,” Reid said on the verge of tears, his teeth gritting slightly to suppress the sobs he wanted so badly to just let overtake him. The emotions swirling inside of him like a category five hurricane were overwhelming and the stress was getting to be too much. Coming back home had more power over him than he had expected it to. He didn’t know why, but it almost felt like he had been through this exact experience before, but in another lifetime. Leeches… What did that  _ mean _ ?

“Reid,” Morgan said softly again, reaching a hand over and gently prying Spencer’s hand loose from where it was clenched so tightly over his thigh that he didn’t even realize it was becoming painful. He slowly loosened his grip, and Morgan kept their hands together, knuckles knocking against each other in gentle maneuvers until their fingers were magically entwined together.  _ Interlaced fingers means intimacy,  _ Reid thought systemically, _ This is intimate. Morgan-- _ Derek  _ is being intimate with me. _

“Morgan,” Spencer repeated in a voice that was just as quiet as Derek’s. Neither of them said anything for sometime, and during that span of silence, Morgan had moved to sit beside him on the couch. Reid was so out of it that he wasn’t even entirely aware that it had happened until a strong arm was gently laying itself over his shoulder, pulling him closer. 

“I don’t know what exactly is going on, and based on your behavior I don’t think you do either. But you can talk to me, kid. About  _ anything _ and I’ll listen. Even if you just want to ramble about one of your most recent hyperfixations, I’ll listen,” Derek said, his hand coming up to card through his hair, gently massaging his scalp in a way that seemed to relax him almost instantly. This intimacy was more special to Spencer than Derek probably understood, because he wouldn’t let just anyone do this. 

Spencer hadn’t been touched like this in a long, long time. His passing nights with Ethan in college were just that - passing. They both held an unspoken understanding that it was never going to be permanent between them. They used no labels with each other, never addressed each other as their significant other, but that was okay, because neither expected that from the other. But Spencer wanted so much more than just fleeting nights of trivial passion with Derek. He craved emotional intimacy with him, and despite the fact that he knew this was just a friend helping a friend for Morgan, he could always hold on to that fragile speck of hope that it would become something more one day.

With that fantasy in mind, Reid began to murmur lowly about the creation of sea glass, how those jagged edges were softened over time into smooth, rounded surfaces of frosted hues. Somehow, he wondered if he and Morgan could gradually become like sea glass too. 

* * *

And you promise yourself   
you will never fall so hard again,   
until you meet someone,   
who makes the fall feel like flying

-Nikita Gill

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on Tumblr! - @makaylajadewrites

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr! - @makaylajadewrites


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